Go North young man!

Piggy baking on my last piece's theme of ruminating, I attempted to fill my already over capacity heart with even more positivism thanks largely to the overwhelming generosity of my amazing friend Ron Andrews. Most of you will already know that we spent multiple decades together, coaching our hearts out, but I might not have told you that he and his wife Cathy make room at their Shangri La on Muskoka's Kushog Lake for an annual "boy's night"of rowdy, robust, raucous, and radiant celebration of former Barrie Central teachers to fan the flames of our friendship.

This annual trek north began 18 years ago when Ron had the stroke of brilliance to share a night of celebration with his fellow Central rugby coaches, a gathering he said was a thank you in his role as HPE leader, but we all knew it had more to do with how much he loves a good party. We were reminded by Dale Burleigh that his wife was expecting their daughter way back then and she turns 18 in the near future, confirming the length of our tenure. As the year's rolled by, the invitations were extended to others, many who were coaches, but also those whose friendship was more enhanced, capping out at 21 (I think) a few years ago. Life gets in the way as we all age and some of our crew were forced to decline the standing invitation due to family commitments, health complications, or simple busyness. 

I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the toasts made to those that deeply desired to join but couldn't arrange the trek this year, their absence both impactful and significant ... here's to Jay, Craig, and Rob. Incredibly, just when we thought the night couldn't possibly get better, a FaceTime proved the proverbial icing on the cake!

The night is a BYOB ... bring your own booze-berth-BBQ-buffoonery ... affair that threatens the sinking of Ron's tinny as he transports the hoard across the waters of Kushog from the marina thanks to the coolers of BBQ items, choice of bevies, and buckets of ice to keep things fresh. Ron and Cathy have carved an virtual Nirvana from the Canadian Shield complete with all that one could wish for at a cottage, with the perfect mix of higher end finishes. The night always begins on his amazing lakeside deck where the bevies flow fast and furious, the potluck nibbles quenching all hunger, and the laughs full on belly busters. Being of like minds, and possessing refined senses of humour, the Santa-like booms of full decibel HOHOHO's can likely be heard far down the lake. The night outlasts the light, pushing the party toward the cottage's BBQ, all manner of caveman meals flame broiled with veggies either not seen, or waved ceremoniously over the meal in an vain attempt at nutrition, and we escape the bush's buggy onslaught thanks to wonders of Ron's engineering. 

Most of the stories are based in experiences from the Central years, retelling that is ripe with anticipation and acknowledgement, but these's always a new offering or three that leaves the group breathless in exasperation, like Burleigh's moving adventures ... inside joke. The over indulgence of said consumables eventually succumbs to the inevitable slumber, any plausible surface serving as a bed, and the short lived silence is broken by the snorts and rumbles of a male body well taxed. The whole affair culminates in a sumptuous breakfast effort designed to take the edge off the previous night's excess.

Considering the average age of our lot, combined with the recent sadness of passing Central colleagues, we annually pledge our continuing participation to each other, the cathartic uplifting of our souls worth the punishment to our organs, but widest smiles this round were reserved for Ron's proclamation, 

"Mark it in your calendars in perpetuity boys!"

Hear Hear!

Ruminating

I feel that I've arrived at that point in life where seemingly minor things or events prompt a cascade of thoughts about a variety of topics, not the least of which is Life's Journeys and how I'm filled with gratitude and appreciation. 

This beautiful little cherub is my grand daughter Wynnie, the first born of our daughter Maddi and her Boo Chris, and she very well may be the happiest child that I have ever interacted with. That's not to say that her mama wasn't happy or adorable or beautiful, but the combination of Maddi and Chris' gene pool has manifested an active, smiley, giggly, charismatic wee princess that melts your heart inside of 2 minutes each and every time. She is not without her frustrating elements, however, but they pale in comparison to the rest of her personality, and we see so much of her mom in her facial expressions, mannerisms, and behaviours, transporting us back in time to those first years of parenthood. It's actually uncanny how much she looks like our Maddi, but then you realize that all of the positive qualities from Chris are also mixed in there, much to the benefit of the grandparents.

On a recent trip for a snuggle and some giggles, Joyce and Maddi dug out some of the dresses that we had used those 32 years ago, and watching Wynnie stand there all proud and pleased with herself, a cascade of snippets came flooding out of my Hippocampus, and I don't mind admitting that it struck an emotional chord in my old wrinkled heart. 

The saying goes that our grandchildren are extensions of our children, and the love we feel for them is simply an extension of the love we've always had for our kids. We're not loving more, we're loving again through a different lens, at a different time in life, offering the joy of parenting without the daily stress, discipline, or financial pressure. This dynamic, backed by science and psychology, stems from several key factors of brain chemistry like psychological "redo", a second chance to nurture or perhaps right some parenting wrongs, or the notion of a generativity drive, an innate need to leave a legacy, and pouring themselves into the next generation brings a deep sense of purpose and fulfillment. (source: Goggle AI).

The spill over effect is on full blast, and the trip down Memory Lane sometimes overshoots, conjuring an unexpected source of yesteryear, moments recycled from times we are emotionally connected to through events that shaped who we became. I wrote a piece about one of my former football coach's passing (CLICK), and although I couldn't make it to the COL in Kingston, some of my buds from those years shared pics of the day, transporting me backwards to those years, complete with that early 80's style. 

As the wide assortment of activities reached a crescendo, it occurred to me that all of the memories were positively lit, likely a direct result of my grey mater tainting them with the upside, not unlike being a grandparent, bringing this whole piece full circle! I have shared thoughts with buds from those years about how different it all could have been had smart phones and social media been actively in play, and we agree that our outcomes would most certainly included more angst, possibly even a meeting with the Po Po. We didn't behave like choir boys but thanks to a wise choice of parental timing by our own folks, capturing those events was only accomplished by our retinas, even in their altered state, well before the advent of the Interwebs.

Circling back to Wynnie, I was a proud Papa this week, showing pics of her off to some of my oldest friends at our annual rekindling of the Sunnidale Mafia. Fully admitting that using a moniker like that may result in some blowback, I'll remain steadfast in the moniker because those 5 gentlemen were integral in shaping my personality growing up on Barrie's Sunnidale Road, attending Central together, sharing the thrills and spills of high school athletics, skiing at Snow Valley, and collectively engaging in the "normal" shenanigans of the late 1970's. 

Left to right, Lance Hamilton, myself, Jeff Ough, Craig Myles, and Greg Brucker are pictured at the right. Mark Fornaserio couldn't make the first meeting, and being official Old Farts, we didn't think to whip out a smart phone and get an updated version this year. We let life to get in the way for decades before Lance poked the bear hard enough for us to push all of the other stuff aside and make the concerted effort to revisit those wonderful moments over a meal and libations. Our stories were shared, our updates explained, our opinions professed, and our laughs bubbled over as we dominated the space in the restaurant for 4 hours, our server being both patient and accommodating ... we tipped her accordingly. 

As I've written many times before, but this past week proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Life is most assuredly Good!

Losing friends sucks!

The old adage that trouble always comes in threes was never more on point than this past week ... well, two of the three were troubling news, the third simply sad. Two great Central friends and one neighbour from my adopted home made the transition to whatever comes next, leaving me with that too familiar emptiness of a loss that cannot be filled. This won't be a lot of words, but I feel compelled to share what each gifted me through their friendship, and how their departure will affect the next weeks to come.

Tod Wright was the custodial lead hand for many of my years on staff at Central, taking over after Don Meriweather (SP?) retired, and although we had already formed a good friendship, his promotion coupled with my outside-the-lines use of Central's facilities meant that we were in pretty regular contact, sharing many conversations. An avid sports enthusiast, Tod was always there for Central's athletes, both as a fan and arranging things to their benefit. He always had a great big grin for me, and was openly warm in sharing some of his passions outside of the job. After Central was closed, we didn't see each other very often, but we stayed in touch via Social Media with messages of support and congratulations arriving in the in-box regularly. Case in point, his was one of the first congratulatory messages I received once the news about my induction to the Barrie Sports Hall of Fame went public. I don't know any details about what happened but if the rest of his life was a positive and warm as our interactions, there will be a large number of people feeling just the way I did when I learned about his passing at such a young age.

RIP Tod ... you were quality people and in my books that counts for a lot!

Regular readers of these posts will already know that Joyce and I relocated to Wasaga Beach, coming up on four years now. We are in a condo, a grouping of three identically constructed buildings in a quiet section of WB's northeast end. Living in a condo community, we established friendships with some of our neighbours, but one of the special ones was with a 95 year old Myra Peddie who was on the same floor at the other end of our building. A feisty and active wee Scottish lass, she always had time for a conversation about almost any subject, and as we became more familiar, she felt comfortable with asking for some help with things that a lady in her 90's might need. This past winter, following a trip out west to visit her daughter, she returned home displaying a little less pep in her step, and inquiries about the change revealed that her health was failing and there was very little that the medical system could do. Being devoutly proud, she decided that she would not burden her family and friends with her bad luck, making the decision to opt for an assisted dignified departure, 100% on her terms. While Joyce and I plus many of our other neighbours are most definitely sad, we admire her strength and conviction. 

RIP Myra ... the pain and burden is finally gone and we love that for you!

Fresh off a weekend event where dozens of fantastic Barrie Central memories were dredged from deep within my Hippocampus, I learned through our group connections that one of my dear colleagues Kelly had lost her health fight, leaving behind literally hundreds of friends, family, and loved ones with a profound sense of confusion, sadness, and loss. I personally feel like I've known Kelly for decades, meeting first when I was hired at Central, transitioning through all of the unbelievableness we shared both in good times and bad, including jointly coping with moving to North following Central's closure. We always had time for a hug, a smile, a story, and a visit, but lost regular connections once we both retired and refocused on family. Still, we met often at retirement parties for our younger colleagues or on the court where I was refereeing her children's games, rekindling the flames of friendship quickly, the mark of a strong relationship. I knew that some health complications had made life more difficult in the past few years, but I am embarrassed to admit that I was not aware of the seriousness, obviously a large part of her passing. 

The last years of her career, she transitioned away from the classroom into guidance where she counselled 1000's of students on potential next steps following secondary, appreciated for her bluntness when it was warranted. When the word begins to circulate through alumni, there will be a dark cloud cast widely as many struggle with her loss.

For me, Kelly will always be a sassy, Uber smart, high energy, focussed Tasmanian Devil who loved working with kids. As a friend, she was selfless to a fault, always ready to take the quarrel whenever required, her sassy sense of humour often leaving the crowd in stitches. Her passing really is a mortality check, a slap in the face, considering that she was only a couple of years younger than me, and I feel deeply that her family has lost such a genuine soul.

RIP Kelly ... Heaven just got a really good one, and those of us left behind will certainly miss you!

Man, growing older is not for wimps!

"We're Central Born, and we're Central bred!"

It's been 10 years this coming June 28th since the SCDSB rammed the final nail into the coffin for Barrie Central, and while that causes me profound pause, a couple of things happened this week to rekindle the flames of my passion for my alma mater, prompting beaucoup de smile and many a warm fuzzy.

This past week ... yep, you missed it despite being warned (CLICK) ... a group of Barrie area rugby stalwarts provided the community with continuing proof that there are those that walk among us with selfless souls and giant sized hearts. If you've never had the opportunity to take in the phenomenon that is OFSAA Boys Rugby, you should still appreciate that to win a medal or award, a team must play 4 forty minute games in 3 days, a grind that often leads to some significant wear and tear on teenage bodies. The teams are seeded #1 through #16, playing an opening round game that determines if they will chase the champion's chalice or compete in the consolation side. 

16 schools representing most of the athletic regions from across Ontario (the 3 northern associations don't have rugby) put on a display of grit, skill, and determination that was awe-inspiring for the hundreds that came to witness the spectacle. At the risk of repeating myself, our athletic association is called GBSSA (Georgian Bay School Sport Association), and our representatives were Champion Eastview Secondary in addition to the host school North Collegiate. 

My BCC partners-in-crime, Ron Andrews and Jay Malandrino, joined me for the championship as we both enjoyed a reunion of rugby minds and the accompanying banter, but also offered our appreciation for the skills that the coaches had gifted their players. I don't mind telling you that while we thought the over all skill set from top to bottom for many of the teams had risen significantly, I'd be lying if we didn't offer a critique or three of the systems that the teams employed, not the least of which was their first-phase attack. Once a coach, always a coach, especially when you've enjoyed the successes that we did (GRIN).

Eastview, seeded #5, bested #12 Kitchener Collegiate in the opening round, but fell to the eventual Bronze medallists #4 seed Medway Secondary (London area) in the quarter finals, ending their Cinderella season. 

North, seeded #11, upset the #6 seed Oakville Trafalgar in their opener, but fell to the eventual Silver medallists Northern Secondary, ending their quest for redemption following their semifinal loss in the GBSSA playoffs.

When all of the dust had settled, Oakville won the consolation championship beating #13 seed Glebe Secondary (Ottawa), Medway beat #2 seed Streetsville Secondary (Mississauga) for the Bronze, and upstart #8 seed Uxbridge Secondary took the difficult pathway through #9 Neil McNeil (Toronto), #1 St Johns (Brantford), and #2 Streetsville before their gold medal victory over #3 seed Northern Secondary (Toronto). I honestly cannot recall a school taking a harder path than through #1, #2, and #3, so KUDOS to Uxbridge!

Part of my role in all of this was to offer counsel, based on having co-convened 2 OFSAA Championships, the first in 2002, and then again in 2015. At the risk of beating a proud chest, Central won gold at both of those tournaments, the last one extra special because both Ron and I had sons playing significant roles in that victory. The other part of my role was to do my best to record it all by freezing the action with my trusty Nikon. If you wish to have a look, CLICK.

This past Saturday night completed the stroll down Memory Lane with a shindig to celebrate the 10 year anniversary of Central's demise, the brainchild of Uber-alum Ben Browne, and the work-product of some almost equally passionate Centralites Patrick Jang, Tim Kraft, Cat Harding and Morgan Wilson. Although I wasn't sure what to expect, I knew that I had to make the trek from Wasaga to help remember the Glory Days (a la Springsteen) of the Red, Black, and White.

Any uncertainties were quickly dismissed as a wide assortment of equally excited alumni greeted everyone with smiles, hugs, and handshakes while the slideshows and music dredged those long forgotten memories of yesteryear. The most senior attendee was from the class of '59, but there were ex-students, ex-staff, and even ex-custodians ... I see you Lolita and Marguerite ... who felt compelled to re-live their experiences with friends made from those influential years. Certainly one of the best attended cadres was my brother Rob's era of the mid to late 80's, all fired up and raring to go, with chums flying in from BC and Florida. Another significant presence were those from the early 90's, and they were certainly the most boisterous, offering a rendition of the Central song and some poetic freestyling. 

Being a Central grad (1977-82) and former staff (1998-2016), I had plenty of familiar faces to reacquaint with and share some stories, but BY FAR the widest smile was generated by former Central Football and Rugby chums Dave Waldock, Brian Britnell, and Ric Cloughley. We were certainly WAY better that night that we were back in the late 70's ... HaHa! 

There were my former teachers like Betty-Anne Taylor, Janet Turner, Bruce Rumble, John Irving, John Kraft, and Don Stephen ... hope I didn't forget anyone ... apologies.

There were former colleagues like Robin and Jay Malandrino, Tamara Tiemersma, Syd Lucas, Joanne McLaurin, Heidi Houlgrave-Plaxton, Rhea Kruase, and Doug Young ... again, apologies for omissions.

There were former students, too many to name, each saving a big smile and a warm hug for their old wrinkled teacher. A HUGE shout out to all who took some time to say hello.

I guess the only reservation was the poor attendance of my era since I don't recall anyone from my graduating class. I see some of those fine people every now and again, but there are some I haven't shared a smile with for decades.

In the end, the two events took some of the ache of 2016 away.

"And when we die, we'll be Central dead!"